


Legacies

by WildInkling



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, Identity Porn, POV Outsider, Secret Author, writer zuko
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-16 02:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21500497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildInkling/pseuds/WildInkling
Summary: Long after the events of Avatar: The Last Airbender, a lone historian finds the personal journal of Prince Zuko. Little does she know that he was also the mysterious anonymous author who took the world by storm. The world will never be the same. Inspired by and directly links to aloneintherain's Writer Zuko AU.
Comments: 809
Kudos: 2900
Collections: AtLA <10k fics to read, Good_or_Decent_Zuko_With_a_dash_of_Iroh_Azula_Gaang, Quality ATLA, avatar tingz





	1. Anticipation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aloneintherain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aloneintherain/gifts).
  * Inspired by [letter to the editor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20014126) by [aloneintherain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aloneintherain/pseuds/aloneintherain). 



> A while ago, aloneintherain (@captainkirkk on tumblr) came up with the secret author Zuko AU, which is exactly what it sounds like. I've been bitten by the bug and am honored to play in her sandbox. The character of Shimzu is also hers, from a snippet written in the same AU that can be found at https://captainkirkk.tumblr.com/post/189123027337/a-historical-account . If you somehow found this without reading her stuff (which... how?), you should head over there now.

Shimzu should run as fast as she can and take this artifact back to the University right away. It should go immediately into a climate controlled room where her colleagues can analyze every page, every turn of phrase, and every word of this extremely momentous historical document. She should call her colleagues en mass to this room right away to go over everything else with a fine tooth comb. 

But Dr. Shimzu, despite knowing all this, stays frozen on the spot. This is the kind of discovery that every starry eyed undergraduate student dreams of, and every jaded doctoral candidate knows will never happen to them. In a moment of panic, terrified to get her hopes up, Shimzu slowly and delicately opens the overflowing little book to a random page in the middle, just to check that this is, in fact, what it looks like. 

The journal isn’t actually bound together in one book – it’s a traveler’s journal, able to be refilled with smaller notebooks. The first notebook at least seems to be original to the cover, with an identical logo stamped on the slim insert. Farther into the book she sees different types of inserts and even some loose paper crammed into the binding. Shimzu holds it like she’d hold a globe of thin blown glass, or a baby bird, or a relic of Agni. She holds it like she held her first grandchild. 

The pages rustle, but they’ve held up remarkably well over the years. They’ll hold up a little longer still. 

The handwriting appears to be the same, elegant and cramped. It’s clearly the penmanship of a well educated student, but the words make no sense. 

_Yoshiki is still giving me trouble – what is it that he wants after his revenge? What does he do afterwards? After Chuya dies, how does that affect him beyond just grief? That’s the real turning point, but I don’t know how things end._

_Anyway, Uncle needs me on dishwashing duty this afternoon at the Tea Shop. I’ll probably be able to work it out then, it’s not like I’ll have anything else to do while scrubbing the biggest pile of dishes in the world._

Well, the first part doesn’t make any sense (yet), but the second part seems to confirm that this diary, excuse her, journal, is filled completely with the personal writings of a young Prince Zuko. It’s precisely what it looks like.

The thought doesn’t sit steady in her brain, but jitters around like it’s electrified, too much. Her heart is beating like she did run the journal up several flights of stairs and across the city all the way to the University where it belongs, but here she is, still alone in the silent antechamber. Just her and the book. 

Shimzu wrote her thesis on Fire Lord Zuko’s years of exile. Since then, she’s published many papers and even two books on the time period. She would’ve traded the hand that’s holding the journal for even a fraction of its contents. So even though she knows better, and even though she may have to justify it later, she pulls up a solid crate and sits down heavily, trying to still her trembling knees and calm the fireflies in her stomach.

She takes a minute to breathe and feel the weight of the stuffed book in her hands, savoring this moment. She knows that once she’s done reading, she’ll recall this moment of anticipation and almost wish to be back here again, able to discover the words anew. She feels like a child about to read the long awaited sequel to a favorite novel. 

Dr. Shimzu opens the book to the first page and begins to read.

She’s grateful that she brought her reading glasses along – Fire Lord Zuko had tiny handwriting, either because of his age or the small size of the notebook, Shimzu isn’t sure. Bending close to the page, she sees to her delight that the date is precisely printed at the top. 

It’s dated over two years before Avatar Aang returned.

_Today is my 14th birthday, and Uncle gave me this_ _~~diary~~ _ _journal to record my observations about my search for the avatar. He said it could be helpful to organize my thoughts before sending reports back to father. I told him that that was ridiculous and my thoughts are always organized like a proper fire bender. That’s what meditation is for. This is ridiculous. I don’t know what Uncle was thinking. He probably wasn’t. There was a proverb but I didn’t understand it._

_We’re continuing on our way to search Eastern Air Temple and the surrounding areas again. We will stop in two days at the Shanfei port to restock and refuel. The wind is blowing south by southwest at eight knots and the skies are clear. If this weather holds we’ll make Shanfei in three days. My fire bending continues to progress._

For awhile, the entries continue in this vein. Despite his derision, Fire Lord Zuko seems to have taken General Iroh’s advice and written reports. They’re clinical and to the point. They’re also a goldmine for tracking the _Wani’s_ journey during its time under Fire Lord Zuko’s command. All of the _Wani’s_ ship logs were lost in the explosion that sank it, and many of the details of that famous journey have been lost to history. 

It’s clear in a few places that pages have been torn out, and things are sometimes crossed out so thoroughly that it would take a miracle to ever see what was originally written. Agni knows that the University will try to pull one off. Forensics will probably get pulled in to help. For now, Shimzu only knows what’s on the page. 

More personal details start to occasionally surface in the Prince’s writing, and Shimzu clings to every last one. Ever so slowly, the stiff and formal tone of his writing begins to relax.

_I hate Jasmine tea, it’s always so bitter no matter how hard I try to brew it right._

_Uncle still has me on the basic katas for fire bending. A child could do these. Azula perfected these at the age of six. I have to work harder._

_Pai Sho is dumb. It’s a waste of time. I should be practicing fire bending, not playing games._

_Stopped to restock today and saw some turtleducks. There were six babies who probably hatched two weeks ago. The smallest one swam right up to me. I gave them all some rice, and they seemed to like it._

Shimzu smiles. The account of a brood of turtleducklings long ago seems so out of place amidst the seriousness of the reports and the fatalism of many of the observations. It’s no secret that Fire Lord Zuko was an angry young man after his banishment, but here she can see the seeds of the kind leader he became. 

And yet, the person who wrote this was clearly, despite his protestations, a teenager. Barely more than a child. He sounds so young it breaks her heart.

_The crew is laughing at me, I know it! No one takes me seriously._

_No one understands how important this is! I have to capture the avatar and restore my honor! The crew doesn’t have near the amount of discipline they need for a mission this important. It’s already been a year, father is probably getting impatient. We have to make some progress soon._

Even though Shimzu always knew that Fire Lord Zuko was a teenager during the war, this drives it home more than anything she’s ever read. “Nobody understands me” indeed. He sounds a little like her son did as a teenager, with an entire nation’s worth of issues added on. Raising children without the trauma was hard enough, and Shimzu feels a pang of sympathy for General Iroh. 

Her colleagues who have an interest in General Iroh (the First) will also be thrilled with what’s in the notebook. The secondhand account of him from Fire Lord Zuko’s perspective is fascinating. 

_Uncle said that I should consider battle strategy from all perspectives._

Could this be the venerated general gently guiding his nephew away from the imperialistic views of the Fire Nation? 

_ARGH! I asked Uncle why he made us take the long route climbing up to the Southern Air Temple, and all he said was: “there are many paths to the same summit, Prince Zuko”_

_Uncle made us stop_ again _even though we restocked two days ago! The crew thinks it’s a vacation! This is a serious mission!_

Perhaps a rendezvous with a White Lotus contact? Or something else? 

And of course there’s the ever present refrain of…

_My honor requires that I get better at fire bending faster!_ ~~_Azula_ ~~

_I don’t have any honor!_

_Only capturing the avatar will restore my honor!_

Over and over again, the young Fire Lord’s preoccupation with honor haunts the pages. He’s obsessed. Shimzu knows, of course, that Fire Lord Zuko is famous for being an honorable man, but here the concept and impulse is warped into a persistent and noxious self loathing that clings to every word. 

She’s about halfway through the first notebook insert when what she’ll later recognize as the first real sign shows up. 

_Uncle said that to understand battle strategy, the perspective of soldiers on the ground are very important to consider._ _~~That’s what got me into this~~ _ _It seems pointless, but he says that a single soldier can sometimes tell you the way the wind blows in a war. Tactics are crucial for a Prince of the Fire Nation. I wrote to Father and told him that I was working on battle tactics and strategy, but didn’t get a response. I have to find some way to improve at this so I can show him when I go home._

_Alright, first the big picture: The battle takes place between two armies at dawn in a mountain pass. Both armies have …_

Though Fire Lord Zuko starts out rigid and formal, as with his other writing it doesn’t take long for it to change into something… different. Something more. Less like a theoretical exercise and almost like … a work of fiction. 

After painstakingly detailing every hour of a fictional bloody battle, Fire Lord Zuko writes about the same events from different points of view on either side of the conflict (including a komodo rhino). The soldiers are from the cavalry, infantry, and the brass, but all must deal with the consequences of war in one way or another. 

A young fresh recruit is shot three minutes into the battle and dies on the front lines. An officer on one side sacrifices nearly all his men in a wild trap that wins him the battle. One of the infantrymen is horribly burned while running away, with very accurate burn descriptions. Yet another dies honorably facing his fate on his feet.

A little on the nose.

Despite the prejudice and anger that the little journal has held up to this point, the language in this section isn’t judgmental at all. Each soldier tells their story of the day to the reader in a way that is intimate and honest. They’re all different, but still united by the circumstances of the day. The komodo rhino dies not understanding or even knowing what the battle is. She only wants to make her handler happy, and maybe earn a sugar cube for a job well done. 

_He was there on the battlefield for the love of his country, but he didn’t, couldn’t, think of any of that in the moment. He only thought of how freezing the mud was, and how sore his feet were, and how very afraid he was, his fear rising with the dawn. At the very end, he thought of his mother and her soft voice and he wished for her in that moment more than anything, more than even glory or honor. Dying was the easiest thing he did that day, and he did it alone, just like everyone else in the horde._

Shimzu shifts and pushes her reading glasses back up her nose, rubbing at her eyes (there’s an awful lot of dust in here). The descriptive language is surprisingly immersive and evocative, especially for a fourteen year old novice writer. It’s an excellent insight into Prince Zuko’s emotional state during his exile.

There’s also something about the language in the story that makes Shimzu pause for a moment. It’s almost familiar. Like the younger sibling of a dear friend, the harmony to a song she’s known the melody of for years. It’s something on the periphery of her vision, just out of sight. Shimzu can’t quite put her finger on it, but it’s there. 

She shakes her head and puts the thought aside for now. Shimzu has spent a great deal of her life reading and studying works from this era, so of course some things are going to seem familiar. It’s inevitable after so long.

After all, it shouldn’t be a surprise that Fire Lord Zuko, champion of the post war renaissance, tried his hand at writing fiction once upon a time. The Fire Lord funneled funding into both education and the arts after he took the throne, allowing literature to thrive. Stories like flowers blooming in the spring after the long winter of war.

Reading a work of fiction by the man himself is almost bittersweet. 

In another life, the boy who wrote this might have had a future as an author. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make me smile every single time.


	2. Stealth Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Zuko writes about his "stealth training," another childhood hobby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, here we go. I went from "guys this is a one shot," to "I have a few notes," to "here is chapter 2" in a frankly terrifying amount of time. How did we get here?

_Every child in the world grows up knowing Dante Basco’s work. Though his adult literature was how he initially made his mark on the literary stage, Basco also single handedly pioneered the genre of children’s literature, beginning with “The Turtleduck Tales” in the year 108 AG, which set off a spate of books aimed at young people published over the next several years. Though Basco is known for his versatility as a writer, “The Turtleduck Tales” are particularly notable – as no stories written exclusively for young children outside of reading primers had been printed until this point._

_At the time many speculated that the flux of children’s stories were written for a child of Basco’s, which was confirmed with the famously heartwarming and strange dedication page of “The Teapot Princess.” It’s clear that alongside whatever else Basco may have been, he was also a loving father._

_– Man of a Thousand Faces: Dante Basco’s Enduring Cultural Imprint by Meng Iwamoto_

* * *

Shimzu continues to read on through Fire Lord Zuko’s account of the pre avatar era of his banishment. The worst part, the part she didn’t see coming, is how earnestly the Prince writes about Fire Lord Ozai. It’s not with the reticence or fear one might expect from a son terribly burned and disfigured by his tyrannical father, or the professional air of a subordinate reporting to a military commander, which Fire Lord Zuko seems desperate to act like (he’s 14 _Agni_ , he was only 14). No, the young Prince Zuko talks about Fire Lord Ozai in a different sort of way.

_Father will be pleased to hear about our progress at excavating the Southern Air Temple and searching the surrounding islands._

_When I go home, father will expect my firebending to be improved beyond where I am so far. I have to get better so he’ll be pleased._

He talks about him like a son desperate for his father’s love and approval. Like a homesick child who just wants his dad. Prince Zuko is furious with the entire world, except for Fire Lord Ozai, who deserves his anger the most.

It’s from this desperate need for approval that the urge to train physically in other ways beyond firebending and sword fighting seems to emerge. Prince Zuko constantly pushes himself beyond what is necessary and what is even remotely reasonable. So naturally he finds a new way to work himself.

_I’ve been practicing my stealth training lately. Most of it is stuff I learned for sword fighting and firebending but used differently. I think that I scared Lieutenant Jee, but I didn’t even mean to! It was his fault he didn’t look up when he walked into the galley._

Shimzu didn’t know that the galleys of fire nation ships from this era had anything on the ceiling _to_ hold on to. It sounds like “stealth training” for Prince Zuko mostly involved terrifying his crew by appearing out of nowhere, and terrifying General Iroh by almost breaking his own neck.

_I made it from the window of my quarters to the helm successfully. Uncle wasn’t pleased with my training regiment._

Shimzu bets he wasn’t. Training regiment indeed. A climb like that on the outside of a Catgator class cruiser … well, she would’ve called it impossible before now. Even though she knows that he made it through the war and lived to a truly impressive age, the antics described casually in his journal still make her blood run cold.

When exactly did she stop thinking of him as Fire Lord Zuko, and start instead to think of him as a teenager? Historians always strive for an accurate account of events, to look at the larger than life figures than history and humanize them, but it appears that even she has forgotten how human even the biggest figures from history are.

It’s just that she doesn’t usually get to read the adolescent musings of the people she studies.

She also doesn’t usually get to read their teenage experiments with art. The first story wasn’t a one off: it was the first of many little forays into fiction for Prince Zuko. He abandons the pretense of writing as a battle and combat training exercise early on, but carries on with the creative writing. Prince Zuko’s stories are usually sad, and some, like the first one, are shockingly tragic.

A piece about a ship lost with its crew without power or wind in the middle of the ocean forever makes her stomach clench. It’s… very dark. The desolation on those particular pages is going to stick with her. The characterization of the crew member, the lowest deckhand in particular, seizes her in a way that much more polished literature often doesn’t.

She notices that there are very few fathers in Prince Zuko’s fiction. There are, however, a great deal of looming authority figures. The ship’s captain in the untitled lost at sea story lurks, an imposing threat that could be around any corner onboard. He’s the biggest threat in the narrative until dehydration begins to take down the crew one by one.

Prince Zuko praises his father in his journal entries even as he condemns him in his stories. No parent should ever make their child feel so inadequate, so unworthy. The need to prove himself remains an ever steady thread through both his fiction and journal entries.

Shimzu closes her eyes for a moment. This is _the_ Fire Lord Zuko, beloved and honored for generations. A celebrated leader, larger than life. This is an angry boy cast away by those that should have cultivated his kind heart and bottomless work ethic. A banished prince in disgrace.

That work ethic also translates itself to Prince Zuko’s studies. He relentlessly and desperately throws himself into anything that he believes might please his father, and shuns anything that would earn Fire Lord Ozai’s derision. Unless Prince Zuko can find a workaround in his brain.

_I bought a volume with Earth Kingdom classical stories at the most recent port in order to better understand the enemy. Knowing how the enemy thinks is a very important step on the way to their defeat._

And that is how for Prince Zuko’s 15th birthday he ends up with a choice selection of Earth Kingdom literature, courtesy of General Iroh. They’re for research purposes, of course. No other reason. Why would there be? It’s not like Fire Lord Ozai would approve of his son spending his time on the frivolity of reading for pleasure.

Shimzu doesn’t come from a family of academics. She’s a first generation college student and an immense source of pride for her parents, her father in particular. He worked in a fish packing plant all his life, but was always happy to listen to Shimzu chatter on about whatever she was studying in school, or an interesting bug she had seen, or a song she had heard on the radio.

It was her father who taught her how to read, sitting with her on the floor and following the words with a calloused finger. She made him read “The Teapot Princess” over and over and over again, until they both knew every word by heart and his voice was hoarse. Then they read it some more. By the time she was a teenager their copy was falling apart, the binding held together by a few thin threads.

No, her father never went to university, but he did give her a love of learning. A love of reading. He also gave her a lot of love.

Shimzu is a tall woman, and she was a tall child as well, towering above her agemates. Despite this, and even though it completely misses the moral of the story, little Shimzu wanted nothing more than to live inside a teapot just like the princess. She once asked her father if she could move from their modest home and into a painted china teapot.

He laughed. “No Shimi,” he said, “you are not a teapot princess, you are my princess, and you have to stay with me for now or I’d get very lonely. When you’re all grown up you can move into a teapot if you want.” The sun kissed skin around his eyes always crinkled when he looked down at her.

When Shimzu left to attend university, her father presented her with a fine china teapot and matching cups, nicer than anything they’d ever owned. He told her that she could move in as soon as she liked, or otherwise they could share a cup of tea anytime he came to visit. Even now, all these decades later, the teapot sits in a place of honor on her mantle.

It sounds like Prince Zuko had more tea, and teapots, in his life than he would like as a young teenager aboard the _Wani._ General Iroh is often mentioned alongside grumbles about the pointlessness of hot leaf juice, the stupidness of fine china, and the frivolity of high quality tea leaves.

If it won’t directly help him capture the avatar, then Prince Zuko doesn’t want anything to do with it. Shimzu smiles. By the time he was the Fire Lord, Fire Lord Zuko was legendary for offering all guests to the palace a cup of the finest tea to be found outside of Ba Sing Se. How things change.

Prince Zuko ramps up the intensity of his stealth training.

_I decided to test my stealth and covert infiltration skills on land. I made it back to the ship without getting caught, but someone almost saw my face. If it hadn’t been so dark they could’ve recognized me. I’ll need to get more medical supplies as well._

Medical supplies? That isn’t concerning at all. Where on Earth did Prince Zuko infiltrate? At first she’d placed the “stealth training” in the same category as the writing – a fascinating childhood hobby of the man who would grow up to change the Fire Nation, and the world. But the stealth training is escalating to an expert level wickedly fast. Shimzu never knew about this secret skill of Prince Zuko’s. In all her research, in all her time studying him, this detail has never even been alluded to.

One would think that the ability to traverse a town or city solely on the rooftops would merit at least a mention, but apparently that’s not the case.

Prince Zuko’s story writing gradually begins to feature characters who appear out of nowhere in the dead of night to right wrongs. Like something out of a Blue Spirit tale. Shimzu purses her lips, amused by how self referential every story manages to be.

The stories also start to crop up in the planning stages. Outlines and character studies are suddenly peppered in between the exhaustive accounts of weather conditions and possible avatar sightings. Fragments of descriptions without context beyond a note in the margin like “this is terrible!” or “too many commas!”

Shimzu is a little disappointed that the outlined stories aren’t included. How quickly this phenomenal find has spoiled her. How could she ever ask for more? She should be grateful for what she has, even though the notes on “stealth training” are rather exhaustive.

_My face is a problem when I’m stealth training on land. It’s too distinctive. Wearing a bandana makes me look like a common thief. Plus, it gets gross after a few hours. I need to figure out something different._

_We’re at a town a few miles outside (always outside) of the Yu Dao Colony and the local theatre group is putting on a production of Love Amongst the Dragons. Uncle wants me to go. He knows it’s my favorite, ~~it was mother’s favorite too~~ and nothing can be worse than the Ember Island Players._

_They were selling masks and headpieces from the story for the audience in town too and making an entire day of it, almost (almost) like a festival. I bought a Dark Water Spirit Mask for my room. Everyone loves the Dragon Emperor, but I always liked The Dark Water Spirit the most. After all, he didn’t really mean to hurt anyone, and his mask is the best._

_I’ve been reading so many ~~Earth Kingdom~~ enemy stories, I realized that it’s important to stay connected to superior Fire Nation culture. _

Shimzu swallowed a lump in her suddenly dry throat. Prince Zuko’s favorite character from his favorite play was the Dark Water Spirit. Prince Zuko had an obsession with stealth and infiltration. The Blue Spirit fought with dual dao, just like Prince Zuko. A very distinctive weapon. Prince Zuko was.... No, he couldn’t be. Her brain dances around the idea as she glues her gaze back to the pages before her.

_I’ve decided to wear the Dark Water Spirit mask next time I practice stealth and covert operations. No one will see my face, and I’ll be spreading great Fire Nation stories around the world. No one in The Earth Kingdom knows about Love Amongst the Dragons._

There are too many puzzle pieces to deny. Prince Zuko, Fire Lord Zuko, was also the original famous folk hero, The Blue Spirit.

How in the world did he have the time?

The Blue Spirit was well known as the champion of the common man, the righter of wrongs, he who acted where the law couldn’t, or wouldn’t. The feats attributed to him were almost… impossible.

Kind of like scaling the outside of a Catgator class ship from crew quarters to the bridge with no equipment.

There were certainly copycats after the trope of the masked vigilante became popular, but facts about the original Blue Spirit, the first person to don the mask and venture out to make mischief and effect change in the night, were few and far between. Avatar Aang attributed his rescue from Pouhai Stronghold to a “Blue Spirit,” but was famously close lipped on the subject beyond effusively praising his savior.

There were reports of The Blue Spirit from the notorious breakout of Pouhai Stronghold, to the slums of Ba Sing Se, all the way to the occasional Caldera city sighting. All places that Fire Lord Zuko had also been.

It fit. Oh. Oh no it fit. How did it fit so well?

Had Prince Zuko turned against The Fire Nation much earlier than previously thought? That was the only part of this that _didn’t_ make sense. Why free Avatar Aang from Admiral Zhao?

_I have to capture the Avatar to restore my honor!_

Oh. Well then. Perhaps Fire Lord Ozai had planted the seeds of his downfall with his ironclad conditions to his son. How fitting.

Ordinarily, a revelation like this one would have her wracking her brains for context and calling her colleagues to confer. The journal aside, a revelation like this one should have her frantically running to every piece of literature on the subject of The Blue Spirit, a figure that most nowadays figured was a fanciful story, a mishmash of several players during the years surrounding the end of the war. A tall tale, at the very least.

But Prince Zuko, the boy who would be Fire Lord, was no tall tale. He needed no embellishment. And there were surely more answers buried deeper in the pages of the little ~~diary~~ journal. Shimzu is going to continue this indulgence to the end.

This was truly the discovery of a lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written in like, two days, and is unbeta'd, so please be tolerant of any typos. 
> 
> As always, comments bring me joy. Thank you to everyone who commented on chapter 1, this is for you.


	3. Honor, Duty, Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Honor is synonymous with duty, and all too often a burden as well. Separating them in one’s mind will be the downfall of the principled person" - Dante Basco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. Guys. I am blown away by the response to this story. I don't deserve you guys. Thank you so, so much to everyone who commented and gave kudos. I love you all.

_“Fire Lord Zuko’s comprehensive post war overhaul of the educational system had a strong focus on history. With Avatar Aang’s assistance he crafted and implemented a new curriculum that emphasized the truth of the 100 year war that became required in all Fire Nation Schools. All propaganda filled history textbooks that had previously been part and parcel of a Fire Nation education were immediately removed from classrooms and replaced with more well rounded textbooks that accurately depicted the events of the 100 year war. This most notably included history and cultural profiles from all four nations.”_

_– Education as Revolution: The Pedagogy of the Post War Fire Nation by Arnaaluk Okpik_

“ _Honor is synonymous with duty, and all too often a burden as well. Separating them in one’s mind will be the downfall of the principled person.”_

_– Profiles in Courage by Dante Basco_

Prince Zuko keeps writing, and he gets better at it. Stories slowly begin to eclipse the journal entries to the point where the outlines and plot ideas outnumber the traditional entries. A new notebook begins with no ceremony and a slew of story ideas. Some of the stories seem to have been abandoned early on, while others were followed up on outside of the confines of the little journal. 

The stories also appear to be gaining complexity and detail. Where the ship lost at sea story was only a few handwritten pages in its entirety, the outlines now easily beat that length, even the incomplete ones with cryptic and incomplete notes in lieu of actual plot points. Shimzu’s favorite is a large star in the middle of a story outline with a note next to it that reads, “This is where THE SCENE happens!!!” and nothing else. 

She scans the margins and thumbs back a page to double check as if “The Scene” will appear on the pages out of nowhere, but there’s no such luck. 

Shimzu’s not entirely sure what happened in The Scene, but it involves an injured winged lemur that appears throughout the rest of the narrative. Whatever happened for the main character to gain a lemur sidekick, the young Prince Zuko was apparently very excited about writing it.

Still, the stories thankfully don’t mean the end of the journal entries. They too have grown more relaxed, more conversational, but are crucially still accompanied by dates. Shimzu longs to talk back through the long hallway of history, to ask endless questions that sprout from the offhand remarks on the pages. 

Why was Prince Zuko so dismissive of Pai Sho, while at the same time consumed by a desire to read historical accounts of every single battle fought in the 100 year war? Did General Iroh ever explain that Pai Sho is an effective game to learn strategy? 

The months roll on more quickly through the pages now that more and more time spent writing apparently happens outside the confines of the beat up little journal. With a jolt, Shimzu notes that yet another year has passed for Prince Zuko when he writes about the passing of his 16th birthday. General Iroh presented Zuko with a very fine inkstone box calligraphy set to commemorate the occasion. 

Evidently the crew decides that at 16 he was “nearly a man grown” and gotten him drunk on cheap Earth Kingdom Baijiu, which apparently everyone involved regretted the next day.

 _I woke up in Uncle’s room? I don’t remember going there last night. I asked Uncle if I did anything embarrassing but he won’t tell me. Uncle wasn’t even there when we started drinking. I spent the rest of the day feeling like a badger cat made its nest in my head. I’m never drinking again. Ever._

Shimzu knows that he did, in fact, drink again. While Fire Lord Zuko was never known as an excessive drinker, there was a rather amusing anecdote about then-Councilman Sokka’s 30th birthday celebration and Avatar Aang’s air bison that couldn’t possibly have happened if none of those involved were imbibing. 

But the newly 16 year old Prince Zuko doesn’t have any friends to lead him down the path of debauchery again, just older crew members under his command who surely got reamed out by General Iroh. At 16, Prince Zuko is without agemates or even allies save his uncle. Shimzu holds Prince Zuko’s closest confidant from his years of banishment in her hands. And even here most of the emotion is still found in his stories. 

Prince Zuko whittles down the little leisure time he has in his life, trimming away all sources of pleasure. 

_I‘ve told Uncle again and again that I don’t have time for music night! What use is the tsungi horn for hunting the avatar? It was a good childhood hobby to teach breath control but it’s time to put that all behind me. How can I command the respect of the crew if they see me so undisciplined? They’ve already seen me drunk, I can’t make it worse._

Soon it seems that the only activity that isn’t directly related to hunting down the avatar is Prince Zuko’s writing. Even though she holds a full journal in her hands and knows that he kept writing for at least a few more notebooks, Shimzu is a little afraid that he’ll realize that writing is technically also a hobby unrelated to his mission

Her heart quickens when Prince Zuko finally ( _finally)_ mentions that he wants to search the South Pole for signs of a Water Tribe avatar. Speaking of friends. 

_The Avatar_ _escaped once but he won’t again. I will capture him and restore my honor. He’s real. I’ve seen him. ~~I have a chance now.~~ It should be easy to capture him since he’s only a child. This is no fully realized Avatar – he’s just an airbender right now. He’s ~~so small~~ unprepared for this fight, while I’ve been training for years. _

This is … beyond valuable. This journal continues to live up to every ounce of potential it could possibly have. Dwelling on the significance is like looking directly at the Sun – she can’t bear to do more than glance for a split second, lest Agni’s magnificence blinds her forever. But she feels it in every moment, inescapable heat and light beating down on her. 

Shimzu hasn’t yet allowed herself time to process the reality that Prince Zuko was the Blue Spirit. That will take time and careful thought. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of potential papers that could be written from The Journal. 

In her head, this book is already categorized as _The Journal of Prince Zuko_ , in capital letters and properly formatted citation. There is no other journal that could ever possibly compare to this one. It’s an honor to be the first person to read it. 

With his goal of capturing the avatar in sight, Prince Zuko retreats back into his formal report language. His stories however, are now infused with a quiet, wild, desperate hope. Light at the end of the tunnel or a way out. Hard earned and well deserved rewards. 

_General Amaya finally had the goal within her sights, and through the bloody post battle haze keenly felt that she only had to take that final step, and then she could rest. After she retrieved the heart she would set her laurels aside, curl up in a quiet corner, and sleep undisturbed for an age and a half._

The accounts of Avatar Aang, Master Katara, and Chief Sokka are fascinating to read.

_That waterbending peasant girl has bested me for the last time! She won’t make a fool of me again! This time she had the element of surprise, but never again._

_The older water tribe warrior got me with his boomerang! But I beat him afterwards because water tribe peasants don’t learn sword fighting._

Shimzu grimaces through the racism. Reading primary sources from this era always comes with the reality of bigotry, but it’s especially difficult to swallow coming from Prince Zuko. It helps to know that all the “peasants” and he would be the best of friends within the year. 

How that happened even after he _tied Master Katara to a tree_ was beyond her. He seriously tied her to a tree? What a miracle that everything worked out the way it did for these children. What a miracle that everything worked out the way it did for the world. 

Someone who shows up more than Shimzu would’ve bet on is one Commander, and then Admiral, Zhao. She vaguely recognizes the names as belonging to the man who lead the Siege of the Northern Water Tribe, but she wasn’t aware that Prince Zuko knew him so well. 

_I beat him in the Agni Kai, but I still would’ve been terribly injured if Uncle hadn’t intervened. He tried to attack me after I turned by back! I know I’m already ugly, but it would’ve been inconvenient if my other eye had been taken out._

Shimzu stares at the page with blank eyes for a moment. It was a long enduring anecdote about Prince Zuko’s banishment that he once bested a fire bending master in an Agni Kai, but it was most often dismissed as a tall tale. Apparently not. 

Shimzu bites her lip at Prince Zuko calling himself ugly. So much of the journal reveals Prince Zuko’s doubts and insecurities, but here is something so overwhelmingly human, and so overwhelmingly heartbreaking that she has to pause. 

There’s a curious blank in the shorter entries and the writing where Prince Zuko leaves a few pages blank. Then, there’s a very long unbroken entry with even neater penmanship than usual. 

_I haven’t been able to write for a while – the Wani blew up in an assasination attempt on me. Zhao tried to have me killed after discovering that I was the masked man who freed the avatar from Pohuai stronghold. I’m writing from an Earth Kingdom spa where Uncle and I are staying for a few days as we determine our next move._

What? What! This was new information. An assasination attempt from a Fire Nation admiral against a member of the royal family? Shimzu had known that there had been an explosion on Prince Zuko’s ship, but it was always noted as an accident, probably engine failure. On a Catgator class cruiser of that age it wasn’t a huge surprise. Why had she never heard of Zhao’s name as more of a footnote in history?

Shimzu reads on with bated breath through Prince Zuko’s account of stowing away on Zhao’s ship and diving through turtle seal tunnels to reach inside the city. Once again, Prince Zuko does not understand the meaning of the word impossible. 

_I stole the avatar, but then wasn’t able to make it out of the blizzard with him in tow. I had him in my grasp again! Once again, I’ve had just enough luck to survive but no luck in any other way. It’s like my father always says; Azula was born lucky, I was lucky to be born._

Did Fire Lord Ozai really say that to his young son? Is that the specter that young Prince Zuko grew up under? How would that shape a childhood? 

All examinations of Prince Zuko’s psyche fall to the wayside as Zhao walks back on the scene. Her heart slowly rises into her throat as his terrible, terrible plan comes to light. Shimzu is not a woman who engages in denial, but she shies away from the reality of Zhao’s plan until she sees it plainly printed out on the page. 

_Then Zhao struck and killed the moon spirit fish in the oasis, and the moon in the sky turned blood red. In vengeance, the spirit of the Ocean –_

No. _No._ Shimzu nearly drops the journal on the crate next to her as she scrambles to her feet and sprints out the door and down the hall. She slams the door open to the bathroom and falls to her knees, the bile burning in her throat and tears streaming down her face as she loses her breakfast. Are the tears from her stomach sickness or her heart sickness? She’s not sure. 

Shimzu is lucky that there’s working plumbing this far down in the archives, and even luckier that she’s so isolated for this discovery. The only witnesses to her anguish are the cracked toilet bowl and the cold tiled walls. Explaining why she’s so distraught to a colleague (or worse, a friend) would be unbearable. 

Agni, such a crime is… unimaginable. No, even in the privacy of her own mind she can’t pray to Agni in this moment. Tui and La, she is so sorry for the crimes of her long dead countrymen, for all the good it will do. To even imagine such an act, let alone carry it out defies all reason. There could never be any sort of justification for an action such as Zhao’s. 

Shimzu wishes for a terrible split second that she had never found the journal. What once was a boon, a blessing, and an honor above all others has now become a burden. 

She knew, of course, about the destruction of the Fire Nation Navy during the siege of the Northern Water Tribe. There were many conflicting accounts about the events of that day, but most historians figured that a brief lunar eclipse followed by Avatar Aang in the Avatar state explained away all the fanciful tall tales. Some have gone so far as to call Avatar Aang a hypocrite for the destruction of so many Fire Nation lives in that battle while he continued to maintain a pacifist mindset throughout his life.

Now Shimzu knows that it’s a miracle that the Fire Nation still exists at all. They’re an _Island Nation,_ just as subject to the whims of Tui and La as the Water Tribe. The arrogance to think oneself completely beyond the spirits is complete folly. La could have buried every island in the archipelago forever, and would have been completely within their rights to do so. 

She’s going to have to contact the Northern Water Tribe council for advice on how to deal with this information. The journal is now classified. She can’t publicize the fact that Tui and La exist on Earth in vulnerable mortal form to help humankind.

To help humankind, and then be repaid in a manner such as this. Shimzu retches into the toilet again, helpless to do anything else in the face of such dishonor. Dishonor not just on humanity, but specifically on the Fire Nation. 

Shimzu has steeled herself through accounts of the air nomad genocide and countless battles of the 100 year war. It’s a historian’s duty to bear witness to the mistakes of the past, lest they be repeated. It’s a Fire Nation citizen’s duty to understand the full tragedy of the 100 year war. This, however, has undone her more than anything she’s ever read before. It could have ended everything. It should have ended everything, had the Fire Nation got what they deserved. 

Shimzu’s knees ache as she rises slowly to her feet, and she knows that she’ll have bruises for days where she landed on the cold stone floor. She walks slowly to the sink and is grateful that there’s no mirror in here – she doesn’t have to face her own reflection just yet. Shimzu splashes ice cold water on her face and doesn’t care when her crimson collar turns burgundy with water droplets. 

She turns and walks back to the dusty cavernous room, back to keep reading. It is, after all, her duty. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to this question from Nix about the timeline of this story. The response kind of got away from me and then grew into a 500 word monstrosity. Someone asked that I put it in the author's notes so here you go:
> 
> Nix: I really enjoy this one and hope you continue! I am curious how long has it been since the end of the 100 year war? Is this discovery the equivalent of finding out more about the writer of Gilgamesh, Beowulf, Shakespeare or Mark Twain (from oldest to most recent)?
> 
> What a great question! I've actually thought about this a lot, and I haven't nailed down an exact timeline yet because world building has a lot of moving parts and this stuff is hard. But here's some stuff pulled from my notes:
> 
> Let's say for arguments sake that we're following Korra's rough outline for how technology progressed post ATLA. Given that Shimzu is also a surrogate for the audience and I want her lived experience to mirror modern life in some ways, let's say that she's roughly 100 - 120 years post Korra, or nearly 200 years in the future. Assuming Korra lived to a respectable age, this gives us a fully grown, but still young Earth Avatar. If we think about the real world timeline for the industrial revolution on, this is actually rather realistic technology wise, especially given the power cheat that ATLA world has on us with bending as a sustainable power source.
> 
> This gives enough time for Zuko to firmly be a part of history, but he's still close enough that people feel the impact of his reign as Fire Lord. They'll be feeling the impact for much much longer, but they also know that their great great grandfather got a loan as part of his economic stimulus package after the war, which allowed their family to start the business that's still running strong. You feel me?
> 
> It's really hard to make direct comparisons to real world authors when discussing the impact Dante Basco had on Avatar World. The 100 year world meant that literature and art stagnated à la The Dark Ages of Europe. Not a lot of money or energy to be spent on creative endeavors during this time, especially in the Fire Nation, which we know has canonically censored art. New literature was a no go. Aloneintherain went into this more in the original story that inspired this one.
> 
> So right after the end of the war, here comes a prolific and masterful writer that portrays all the nations with dignity and raw, emotional honesty. He is the representative author of the era, bar none. Like Shakespeare if Shakespeare wasn't three innuendos and two fart jokes wrapped in masterful societal commentary. So, maybe like the Da Vinci of literature, if Da Vinci was prone to finishing his projects? Dante Basco shaped and influenced almost all literature that came after him, and tracking his impact is something that scholars of literature spend their entire lives looking in to.
> 
> Uhhh I hope this answers your question, this response kind of got away from me!
> 
> "Profiles in Courage" is the title of a book that JFK wrote. Not mine, but it fit so perfectly that I had to use it.


	4. Paths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shimzu reads about the aftermath of the siege of the Northern Water Tribe in Prince Zuko's journal

_“I really liked this book because it was happy and sad at the same time. It was really unfair and sad how the war happened and Tong Wen had to leave his home and walk all across the Earth Kingdom. My favorite part was when Tong Wen found his daughter again because it was happy and I was really worried about her. It made me think a lot about the war and how there were a lot of real people like Tong Wen who lost their homes and their families during the 100 year war. I would really like to travel to Ba Sing Se one day and see all the places that were in the book.”_

_– Book Report on “Tale of the Refugee” Shimzu, age 12 (rough draft)_

Shimzu fishes though her messenger bag for her water bottle to rinse out her mouth. As she unscrews the cap, she pointedly avoids looking towards the little book sitting on a crate in the corner of the room as well as her once pristine gloves strewn across the floor, now covered in grime. 

This is ridiculous; Shimzu is a professional, and an adult. If she can’t handle the atrocities committed by her people, then who can? Perhaps this knowledge is the price she must pay for being the one to discover such a treasure. After all, she is still actively breaking protocol. Had she, Dr. Shimzu, Dean of Caldera University’s History Department, had followed the rules and common sense then she certainly wouldn’t have ended up dealing with this knowledge alone. 

Shimzu takes another sip of room temperature water to soothe her burning throat. She’s going to see this thing to the end. She walks over to the crate, slips on a fresh pair of gloves from her pocket and delicately brings the little journal up to her face.

She reads of Princess Yue’s sacrifice and feels like weeping again. A 16 year old saved her people, saved the world, and no one ever knew. It’s well known that there was some sort of celestial event during the Siege of the Northern Water Tribe, but the reports are garbled and often contradictory. Now, she knows why. Shimzu closes her eyes and breathes for a moment. She’s never been a particularly spiritual woman, but she finds herself calling out to the spirits once again today, this time in thanks. Shimzu thanks Yue for the very world she was born into. 

Even as she feels that terribly familiar ache of ancestral grief and guilt in her abdomen, she feels the thrill of discovery alongside it. Prince Zuko’s account of the Siege of the Northern Water tribe does not focus where she expected it too.

_I reached out to save Zhao – even if he was terrible, I couldn’t just let him die like that – but he didn’t take my hand and was taken by the Ocean Spirit instead. Why can’t I get his face out of my head? I see his face in my dreams and hear him screaming over and over again. He was so close to me I could almost touch him. Sometimes, his face is suddenly father’s face, and then I’m burning again._

Shimzu thinks that a watery death or possible eternal imprisonment in the Spirit World is the very least that Zhao deserved. All too often, war criminals from history died warm and comfortable in their beds surrounded by generations of successful progeny. A vindictive piece of Shimzu is viciously glad that Zhao didn’t get the same. 

It’s very hard however to be too happy about Zhao’s fate when the cost appears to have been some of Prince Zuko’s mental health. He mentions more than once how Zhao’s face haunts his dreams. A man dying violently right in front of someone would haunt anyone, let alone a 16 year old who seems to take everything very personally. 

_Sometimes it even happens when I’m awake. I’ll turn and then all of a sudden I’m back there, frozen under the bleeding moon with the world ending and Zhao willing to die instead of taking any help from me._

_Maybe I’m going crazy._

_I can’t tell Uncle. ~~I won’t be like Az~~_

~~~~ _What’s wrong with me? The crew ~~my crew~~ is probably all dead and I’m having nightmares about the man who was responsible. _

Shimzu is drawn back into the journal’s events despite her lingering nausea and grief. However strong her own feelings are, Prince Zuko’s are much, much stronger. 

_I had meant to nominate Lieutenant Jee for a mark of distinction and possibly a promotion._

_Who is supposed to write letters home to family in a situation like this? The crew was technically removed from my command, but who else is going to do it? I don’t even have a casualty list. ~~Did any of them survive?~~_

~~~~ _Why didn’t the Ocean Spirit take me too? Is it because I was banished and even the spirits know that I’m not Fire Nation anymore? It would’ve been so easy to take me too. The Ocean Spirit was right there._

The idea of Fire Lord Zuko not being a part of the Fire Nation is so ludicrous that it derails Shimzu’s train of thought so thoroughly that she lets out an almost hysterical laugh despite the terrible gravity of the confession. Fire Lord Zuko _is_ the Fire Nation – a symbol of what they strive for. His name is often invoked in political debates even today. 

What would Fire Lord Zuko do? What would he want? There is, of course, no way to know.

This long entry written at an Earth Kingdom spa reads more like a narrative than any of the other shorter nonfictional entries. It’s not often that Prince Zuko allowed himself uninterrupted time to write about his own life, for what must’ve been hours on end. Usually only his stories get this kind of attention. 

_It feels so stupid after everything to even think about it, but the story I was writing - the really long one - blew up with the ship, and I don’t even know if there’s any point to starting over. All my writing blew up with the ship. All my stories that weren’t in my journal. All of that time was wasted._

_Maybe it means that it’s time to focus on my duty._

Oh no, were they back here? Back to this tiresome self recrimination yet again? Psychologists were going to have a field day with the way Prince Zuko buries his grief, his pain, and his sorrow. Shimzu is glad that the actual journal itself survived the explosion

_I’m just lucky that I had my actual journal on me wrapped up in oilskin when everything happened. I couldn’t risk Zhao finding it in my room if he broke in. The outside cover got a little damp when everything blew, but against all odds it made it out fine. Against all odds I made it out fine. For now, I guess I’ll keep writing. Uncle was right about that much. It does help to keep my thoughts in order._

That answers that question, at least. Here is a place where Prince Zuko’s paranoia and over preparedness paid off. Though, is it truly paranoia if Zhao was really out to get him? 

Shimzu can’t suppress another shiver of disgust at the thought of Zhao. Even the man’s name at this point feels dirty.

Part of the way through a meditation on how to move forward with capturing Avatar Aang, the entry ends mid sentence. Shimzu purses her lips and turns the page to the next notebook in the journal. 

The next entry looks very different. Prince Zuko’s normally pristine handwriting has taken a definite hit. It’s even more cramped than before, and the once precise lines are now slightly sloppy. The cover of the new inset is slightly charred on the edges and darkened with old ash stains. 

Shimzu’s heart skips a beat. This, she knows, is important. 

_There is a warrant out for our arrest as traitors to the Fire Nation for our part in the Siege of the Northern Water Tribe. Azula tried to take us into custody by lying and luring ~~me~~ us in. I should have known better from the start. Azula always lies. Uncle and I are now on the run. We have cut off our phoenix tales – but instead of leaving them in ash to rise again, we dropped them into the water. We are now without a nation and without honor._

There’s something about the lines that itch at Shimzu’s attention. Prince Zuko’s writing has grown a great deal from those dry reports he set out to write at 14. That young boy would never have used metaphors in his writing, especially not his personal journal entries. The wording of this paragraph in particular echoes in her mind. Once again there’s something almost familiar about the words that she can’t quite place. 

When Shimzu is writing a research paper or working on a project, there’s sometimes a bell in the back of her mind that means she should pay closer attention. That bell can bode for ill or well; connections that preemptively disprove her hypothesis, or intuitive leaps that make her work fall into place. 

Shimzu has a chorus of bells going off in the back of her mind, but she can’t for the life of her figure out why. Despite herself, she can’t look at this artifact clearly, with the eyes of a scholar, but objectivity is not the watchword of the day. She feels as though she’s being suffocated by every conflicting emotion that wraps around her in a thick layered cocoon. 

Shimzu knows how this story ends. Every child in the world knows how this story ends, but she’s still deeply moved at every turn in some new way. 

_I’m not stupid. I know that being caught with this journal in Earth Kingdom territory would be as good as a death sentence, so I tried to burn it. It was the only thing to do that made sense. The inside cover has my real name on it!_

_I put the first insert on the fire but Uncle came back, shouted louder than I’d ever heard him, and snuffed out the flames instantly. I don’t know why he was so upset – he doesn’t even know what I’m writing and I was only being logical. It’s foolish to keep the journal around. It’s beyond foolish. Uncle said something about seeds and sunshine but it didn’t make any sense. I don’t know why he cares so much about this._

Shimzu’s hands tremble at the thought of Prince Zuko burning this journal, and her breath catches. She swallows roughly, her throat still sore from bile. This book came so close to destruction so many times. Shimzu is so lucky to hold it in her hands, unravaged by time with the ink still bold on the yellowing pages. 

Information about Prince Zuko and General Iroh’s time as refugees is famously slim. It’s very difficult to retroactively track the path of people in hiding. They began at a small coastal resort village in the Earth Kingdom and ended up in Ba Sing Se as tea shop owners. Prince Zuko was always rather close-lipped and vague on the subject, only ever using his experiences to justify his empathy for those without means. 

The journal entries are less consistent and a great deal shorter now that Prince Zuko doesn’t have a table to write on – once or twice he even gripes about how difficult it is to write the characters when the book is on the ground next to a small campfire.

Slowly, the map of the Prince and the General’s journey across the Earth Kingdom unfolds before her alongside the other unglamorous details of living rough. Shimzu hoards every last nugget of information like fire opals. 

Prince Zuko’s feet were constantly throbbing and sore. He reports that his Uncle’s knees needed soaking in a cold mountain stream. Prince Zuko wrote about how he experienced real hunger for the first time: the kind of voracious monster that writhes in the upper abdomen and can never be forgotten. He writes about the grime that gets under your skin when you don’t have a change of clothes, the dirt that feels like it will be there forever. 

In the margins, Prince Zuko starts to sketch out brief story outlines again. They deal with themes of deprivation, loss, and identity. 

There’s a longer entry with better handwriting from a farmhouse that sheltered Prince Zuko and General Iroh after the latter fell ill from a poisonous flower. A healer there saved General Iroh’s life. Her daughter who was about Prince Zuko’s age left quite an impression. 

_Song keeps following me around asking for stories. Can’t she get them anywhere else? She keeps asking for me to tell her one! I tried to tell one of the stories without looking at the journal but I didn’t do it right – everything got twisted around. I had to read out one of the short ones to her. She says she liked it._

_She’s the first person who’s ever heard any of my stories._

_I asked her what her favorite book was – she likes stories a lot, and I’ve read a lot of Earth Kingdom books for research – but she told me that she doesn’t know how to read. I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t know how to read before. ~~Everyone in the crew~~_

_I shouldn’t have mentioned that I write stories at all if it meant that she wouldn’t leave me alone._

_I don’t know why she wouldn’t learn how to read if she likes stories so much, but she said that there wasn’t anyone around to teach her. Why can no one here read? Song says that she can read just enough to understand signs, but not any more than that. Her mother is the same._

_I can’t imagine not being able to read or write. ~~I think I would’ve died~~_

Of course it was only the stories that could make a young lady want to spend time with young Prince Zuko. Why else would a young lady want to spend time around a young man if not for his storytelling abilities? 

For the first time in awhile Shimzu smiles at the journal. Perhaps this was the seed that grew into Fire Lord Zuko’s massive educational reform and literacy campaign. It was a lovely thought – after all, without the push for accessible education for the poorer classes, Shimzu herself wouldn’t have been able to attend university. To think that it may have all started with a random peasant girl in the middle of the Earth Kingdom is humbling. 

Shimzu stops smiling after the farmhouse entry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the delay - it's been a rough couple of months for me and writing took a backseat to other concerns. I've had about 1.5k of this done for a while, but I couldn't figure out how to wrap it up, or what to include. I decided to just go ahead and post instead of getting stuck on indecision. Next chapter should be all Ba Sing Se all the time. 
> 
> As always, I'm humbled by every single comment and kudos I receive - the response to this story has completely blown me away. I don't deserve you guys. Thank you so much to every single one of you.


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